


Morning Caf

by Erma



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode V: Empire Strikes Back, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 13:38:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11358606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erma/pseuds/Erma
Summary: True love stories are filled with moments both dramatic and mundane. Or, the happiness of waking up with someone you love.





	Morning Caf

The machine beeped. As he did most mornings, Han groggily reached for the pot, and poured the hot caf into one of the two gathered mugs. And as he did on many of those mornings, he smiled as he took his first sips of the day, thinking back to another morning long ago…

_Leia sighed happily, still half-asleep, and snuggled up close to her smuggler’s side. Her murmur roused Han from his similarly half-conscious state. Waking up next to her was such a new and wonderful thing. Thoughts of what might come after they reached Cloud City could wait; right now, they were happy._

_Han could almost feel Leia’s sleepy, beaming smile. Infected by her cheer, his arm around her, he drew her even closer. “Nice dream?”_

_“Hm-hmmmmm” came the dreamy confirmation._

_He knew she would understand he just couldn’t help himself. “Must have been a dream about me then.”_

_Still smiling sleepily, she murmured additional confirmation._

_He chuckled, surprised and intrigued. “OK, tell me more then.”_

_She yawned, and mumbled: “You made a pot of caf and poured me a cup.”_

_“Well, that sounds nice…” He still couldn’t help himself, or his wiggling eyebrows, even though he knew she was too sleepy to register the suggestive expression. “… and just where were we when I poured you this cup of caf?”_

_“Our apartments.”_

_Han’s eyebrows, and his entire body, grew still._ Our apartments. _Shared living arrangements. Arrangements that had never existed, and had never been discussed. And not ship-based_ quarters _, either. Apartments. Planet-side. Stable. Future._

_Apparently not yet awake enough to realize the impact of her words, Leia seemed only to realize that Han wasn’t quite sharing in her cheer, and that it was somehow important he understand just how wonderful the dream had been. Blissfully unaware of where she was about to tread, she pushed on._

_“You made me cup of caf in our apartment. Ours. We were together…” Something shifted. Perhaps she was beginning to realize what she was saying. “Han—the war was_ over _…”_

_Leia stopped. She was awake now. And she froze. Did she realize the dangerous territory she had just wandered into? They had only just managed to forge a truce and admit (without literally admitting) their feelings for one another. It was a delicate truce, maintained mostly by avoiding conversations of what lay ahead of them when they arrived at Cloud City—of the future. And now, in her half-conscious state, she had blown the unspoken terms of the truce wide open and had talked not just of their future, but of that future involving commitment._

_Another moment passed. Then, gently, Han pulled away just enough to turn on his side to face her. Slowly, he reached up to gently trace Leia’s hairline, his fingertips continuing to follow a line from her shoulders, down her arm, and to her hip, while her expression held steady, her gaze directed resolutely towards his shoulder. If he hadn’t already known it before, this was just further confirmation of how much trouble he was in. Never would he have thought he would care so much about such things, but here he was, wanting desperately to hear more of Leia’s dream of their shared apartment._

_At last, he caught her eyes with his, suggestive eyebrows having given way to seriousness and longing, and took the plunge. “Our apartments, huh? That does sound nice.”_

It had surprised them both how easily they then talked of such serious future plans, of being together; of commitment. They didn’t talk at length, nor could they allow themselves to, but they said enough to know their feelings were mutual and sincere. And while this hopeful spirit had gradually been replaced by a heavy dread as they approached Bespin, it had been relatively easy for them to revive the spirit once their victory was achieved on Endor.

So, soon after that spirit led them to their first in a string of shared quarters and apartments, Han began to make a pot of caf nearly every morning they were together, always pouring Leia a cup. He wasn’t sure if Leia had ever made the connection to that dream and their conversation. Of course, at some point it didn’t really matter so much; someone had to make the morning pot, and they both preferred his to the pots Leia made. 

The sound of approaching footsteps brought Han out of his reverie. He poured the second cup of caf and handed it to Leia as she walked into the kitchenette. “Morning, sweetheart.”

Leia sighed contentedly, still half-asleep, and snuggled up close to her husband’s side as she accepted the cup and took a sip. He wrapped his arm around her and drew her even closer. Waking up with his wife was no longer new, but it was still wonderful.

**Author's Note:**

> _Awwwww..... :)_


End file.
